


Golden Hour

by 17daysgreys



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gendrya Big Bang, Transformation, Violence, hidden identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:22:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25181692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/17daysgreys/pseuds/17daysgreys
Summary: Arya Stark has a secret talent but will old loves get in the way, or will she discover that everything she had wished for was always within her grasp?
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to katlyn1948 for reading and editing, to my beta Laura, and my wonderful artist whose work I will post ASAP.

Slow Burn:

_ L.A. was everything she thought it’d be and more. The sun shines brightly every day, it’s never colder than 70 degrees, and the palm trees lining the streets never cease to amaze her. She’s been here for five years now, five years since she left England behind and all the negative memories, she associates with it. It seems like a lifetime ago. _

_ “Arya,” a voice calls her into the studio, “Come on it’s your turn.” _

_ “Yeah,” she responded, tucking her short hair behind her ear, “I’m coming. You’re good here right?” _

_ “Yeah,” a little voice perks up. _

_ “She’ll be just fine with her uncle,” he smiled at her, “Go on.” _

Five years earlier:

Robb, Gendry, and Jon 19- Gendry is a senior, while Robb and Jon are at the local community college

Sansa- 18, senior

Arya, 17, Junior 

Arya Stark was never one to be an early riser, no, she much preferred the comfort of her bed, wrapped up in a sea of blankets with one leg sticking out to get proper air flow. Her long, dark hair disheveled across the pillow and of course a line of spit coming from her mouth.

“Sweet dreams, little sister?” Her eldest brother Robb asked.

“Piss off,” she groaned into her pillow, her alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, why was he bothering her?

“Now that’s no way to talk to your chauffeur. Up and at ‘em pipsqueak.”

She was 5’1”, how dare he call her a pipsqueak, “Five more minutes!”

“It’s been twenty since Jon woke you, ten since Sansa tried, and if you risk another five, you’ll have to deal with Rickon.” She did not want to deal with his ‘innovative’ experiment of dumping cold water on her face.

She slowly got out of bed, “I’m up. Now can you leave?”

“Most certainly, little sister. Would you like coffee with extra cream or coffee with extra coffee?”

“Do you have caffeine pills?” She groaned, rubbing her eyes fiercely, gods was she exhausted this morning. Not even cocaine would be able to perk her up, not that she’d ever tried it.

“No can do, those are addictive,” he smirked.

“And so are the cigarettes; I see you and Jon smoking on a daily basis, but who am I to judge.”

“Touché.”

“Can you please get out of my room, I need to get dressed.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first?”

She shoved her older brother out of her room, but not before hitting him a few times for good measure. She knew she was a sight for sore eyes before 6:30 A.M., but who wouldn’t be? She needed five minutes, a hairbrush, brightening concealer, and dark jeans to make her look semi-presentable. And that’s all she would need to go for, she wasn’t like Sansa, who took three hours to do her hair and makeup every morning. To be fair, Sansa always looked flawless and Arya loved that about her sister. She had a true talent for hair. However, that’s a lot easier to do when you have silky, thick, gorgeous auburn locks that will twist into any style possible. Arya, on the other hand, hers got knotted just resting on her shoulders.

With her hair in a braid and herself clad in a band t-shirt, minimal but necessary makeup based on her late night, mainly focused on the massive hickey she had on her neck, hence the braid; she was ready for a Stark family breakfast. See, most families let their kids be independent once they reached high school, but her family was entirely the opposite. They had to get up an hour earlier than necessary so they could have family breakfast. Catelyn, her mother, had argued that everyone had different activities, so it’d be unfair to expect each of her children for dinner, but it was well within her right to request their precious sleep.

Arya groaned at her mother’s insistence for breakfast, but at least she always had a spread on the table of eggs, waffles, ham and fruit, and seemingly endless pots of coffee.

“Arya, there’s eggs ready for you, how many do you want?” Catelyn asked.

“Uh,” she mumbled, “Maybe two?”

“Here you go dear,” she said as she loaded her plate up with eggs, bacon, and a couple slices of toast, “You can wash it down with the freshly squeezed orange juice.”

Arya wondered if her mother ever truly slept. Somehow, she managed to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for eight people, daily. Even though they were a prominent political family and the Starks came from old money, her parents hired minimal help. Their old nanny, Old Nan, would come over a few times a week to help with carpooling Bran and Rickon and to maybe give mom a break from cleaning, but Catelyn tried her best to do everything. She’d only relent and accept help if she was planning a charity gala or event, but most of the time Sansa planned those with her. Sansa was a senior at Winterfell High and showed every intention of going into event planning after graduation, even considering bypassing college all-together. Originally, Arya would have thought her parents would think that to be sacrilegious, with both Robb and Jon having decided to go to the local community college for their general education, but Catelyn surprisingly supported it.

“Thanks.”

“So,” Catelyn began, as she herself sat down with her five children and nephew to eat breakfast, “It’s the start of a new semester, is anyone doing anything new?”

“Arya’s doing something new,” Rickon laughed.

She flung a bite of her eggs at her youngest brother who dodged them expertly and they unfortunately landed on her father’s face.

“Arya!” Sansa gasped, however her brother erupted in laughter.

“What new thing are you supposedly doing?” Ned asked as he wiped his face.

“Yes, Arya,” Sansa gave her sister a disparaging look, “What new ‘thing’ are you doing?” She eyed her deeply, it was impossible to keep anything from Sansa. A lonely freshman would do anything to give her any dirt on her siblings, or anyone at school for that matter.

She hesitated a moment, she didn’t want to tell them, but what was better: telling your parents you’re fucking your best friend or that you’re thinking of moving to L.A.? (maybe add: She went with the latter , seeing as there’d be no opportunity to do so. 

“Well,” she paused, “I’m looking into spending my senior year in L.A.”

“L.A.,” Robb inquired, “L.A. as in America, you know the place with all those, uhm strippers and people who have guns?”

“Yes, Robb,” Arya responded, “I’ve found my true passion in life. I plan to be a window dancer; I mean I have a natural six-pack and my petite size will make me very marketable. Besides if anyone tries to mess with me, I can at least protect myself,” she smirked. She didn’t understand American ideals entirely but wasn’t as biased as Robb or the rest of her family. She loved country music growing up; listening to Dolly Parton albums like they’d go out of style. It was a culture that had so many bad reputations, but in reality, if you took a bit of time to understand it, you’d get that most people weren’t gun toting, racist, idiotic, tone deaf people. They just wanted to live safely and have their communities safe- as a labor party supporter she couldn’t fault that, despite her opposing views on firearms and abortion.

Catelyn hit her son upside the head, “Sometimes I don’t know who raised you. Be a gentleman, Robert. Now go on dear, why are you interested in L.A.?” She tried to hide her judgment, of course she didn’t want her youngest daughter moving to a whole new country for her last year of secondary school. However, Robb clearly had a nact for politics, Jon had military strategy written all over him, Sansa was a planner, Bran was a brain and could memorize a book upon first read, and little Rickon, oh little Rickon, she’d bet her life he’d end up as a comedian one day. But Arya? Arya was uncertain. She was wild and free, honest, deliberate, and spent a bit too much time with that Waters boy. 

However, Catelyn couldn’t pinpoint her daughter’s path and most likely that caused most of the tension between her and her youngest daughter. But gods, did she love her, maybe slightly more than her other children, because the mystery of all Arya could be was worth all the confusion and uncertainty. Cat was sure of a few things in her life, but she never doubted that somehow, someway, her little Arya would be okay in this world.

“Well,” she explained, “I really like music and they have a one-year high school program for it. I wouldn’t apply until the Spring and it’d be a one month notice of if I could go, but it could be a great opportunity.” She reasoned, neglecting the fact that the program didn’t truly exist, and it was more of a connection to Mr. Forel’s old high school friend and she had to simply send her a video of her singing and he’d make a decision if she was worth his time.

“Sounds lovely dear,” Ned agreed, as his nose was deep into the local paper. As a local politician it was irresponsible for him to not be informed. He loved his youngest daughter like she was a limb attached to his body, but truly, he didn’t really care what she did. He knew she was strong and determined and whatever she set her mind to, it’d work out; she’d force it to. She’s a force of nature. 

He worried for Sansa and the fact that men pushed her around, he worried for Jon and his insecurities over his mother’s death when he was three, he worried for Robb and the pressure he had to follow his footsteps into politics, not that he ever expected his eldest son to take his reins. He wanted, most of all, for Robb to forge his own path in life. He worried for Bran and the expectations on him that he’d be a genius, or even Rickon and his wildness. But Arya. His biggest worry was her happiness. It didn’t go unnoticed to him that she felt out of place. Maybe L.A. was what she needed, a new start, a new purpose- if she made it happen, he’d support her. Besides as much as she wished to hide it, he knew she had a voice of an angel.

Their family breakfast ended pleasantly, and Arya, Sansa, Jon, and Robb were ready to head off to school, Robb and Jon heading to the Winterfell community college after they dropped their younger sisters off.

“Nice save in there,” Jon said as he buckled his passenger seat and began monkeying with the radio.

“I know right,” Robb laughed, “I mean weaponry, you really sold them there.”

“And I thought Rickon had caught on with you and a boy, I shouldn’t have been so blind,” Sansa joked back.

“Yeah,” Arya shyly responded, “Me and history is such a mess but me and a boy is an improbable mathematical equation.”

“Exactly,” her siblings all chimed in.  _ How wrong they truly were. _


	2. Lonely weekend

Chapter 2: Lonely Weekend:

Gendry Waters hated school, having dyslexia and a stressful home life didn’t help that fact much either. He was damned lucky that Davos and Mayra fostered him last year and were in the process of adopting him. Marya had gone a bit stir crazy when they had become empty nesters, going from seven children in the house to none almost made her rip her hair out, so she practically forced her husband Davos to foster and here he is. He would have gone mad if he had to stay one more day in King’s Landing. No, he did not miss that place in the slightest.

He remembers his mother slightly, she had blonde hair and sung him to sleep a lot. He likes to think that she had a kind face and a gentle smile, but he’d be lying if he knew for sure. She had died when he was four years old from lung cancer. He didn’t remember her smoking or drinking or doing anything that would cause it. One day his mother had long, golden blonde hair and a smile that lit up her face and the next she was lying in a hospital bed with chapped lips, fuzz on her scalp, and tubes coming from every direction. He’d never met his father and his mother didn’t introduce him to her family, if she even had any. So, as his mother’s breaths got shallower and shallower, only a recently graduated social worker was there to keep him company. 

He spent the next ten years in foster care, bouncing from home to home in King’s Landing. He made a few good friends along the way, but none that would ever make up for a family. The worst part, he surmised, was the fact that he was mere miles away from the luxury and lavishness that was the King of Westeros, Robert Baratheon. The man exuded power and wealth and it pissed Gendry off to no end that the poor suffered while he drank and whored his way around the country. When he was fifteen, a few months before he met Davos and subsequently moved to Wintertown, he met Anguy, an archer with similar worldviews to his. He was angry and alone and tired and frustrated and before he really knew what he was doing he had joined the Brotherhood without Banners, under the tutelage of Beric Dondarrion. But that was years ago and a completely different city, the surly kid who joined them was no more, they should have no use for him, right? 

“Hey there,” a voice came from behind him.

“Hey,” he turned around and greeted his girlfriend, Arya Stark. She was a petite little thing with long brown hair and steel grey eyes with a fiery attitude to match. Plus, her voice sounded like an angel whenever she sang in the car, a bit too soft, but he could hear it. 

“Did you make it down the bannister okay last night?” He smiled thinking about how he had to get out of dodge last night when Sansa knocked on Arya’s door claiming there was a massive emergency since her favorite celebrity showed up to a movie premier in a green dress, a fucking green dress. Arya had texted him later that evening explaining that the actress’ palette was warm and that for such an important event her stylist should be fired. 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” He grabbed her hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“We can't do this,here,” she protested, “Someone might see.”

“I’d argue that M’lady is ashamed of me.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“My brothers, they’re…”

“I know your brothers, actually they’re quite good friends of mine, I could go right up and tell them that I’ve been fucking their little sister.”

“Gendry,” She scolded.

“Or,” he suggested, “I could be rational and just tell them that I’m dating you.”

“You’re almost nineteen, I’m barely seventeen.”

“Maths were always your strong suit.”

“Shove it,” she laughed, “Please give me a little more time. I just want to figure things out a bit. You’re going to school next fall, I might move to L.A. for senior year, it’s all up in the air.”

“L.A.?”

“Mr. Forel told me there’s a music program at UCLA, it could be a really great opportunity.”

“But we’d be apart for an entire year,” he whined.

“I know,” she responded, “That would be the worst part of it all. I can imagine being separated from my family; gods know I need a break sometimes. But not seeing you every day, no that’d be torture.”

“You don’t know how badly I want to kiss your right now.”

“Keep those thoughts for later,” she smiled, “You’re free after football practice, right?”

“My house or the car?”

“I think we won’t make it past the car.”

“Arya Stark, you are evil.”

She smirked and walked away from him. Yeah, he was whipped. She was truly the love of his life, too bad he won’t be able to follow her to L.A. Maybe, maybe he could work something out.

_ Unknown Number: Are you coming tonight? _

_ Gendry: Yes. _

_ Unknown Number: Good. Do not be late, 20:00 sharp. _

“Ugh,” Arya groaned, as she looked at her phone, another cancellation. She loved Gendry, she truly did, he had been her best friend for years before anything between them happened. If her family paid any attention, they’d have shipped them from the very beginning. She was grateful for their inability to see her as an adult woman who could love a man, or anyone really, but it was frustrating. Her elder brothers teased Sansa senselessly about boys, but her, their lips were entirely sealed (I am not sure what you are trying to say here.). Her mother has yet to have ‘the talk’ with her and her father avoided her gaze whenever a person of the opposite sex was brought up. Hells, she had been with Ned Dayne for a better part of her freshman year and no one realized it until she flat out said ‘my boyfriend is taking me to homecoming.’

Maybe that was why she was so reluctant to tell her family about him. They knew him and loved him and had this established relationship with him. If things didn’t work out, he didn’t just lose her, he’d lose an entire support system. He kept a lot of things hidden from most people, but he let her in, just a bit. She knew he had a past, but didn’t everyone?

“What is it?” Sansa asked, getting into her car.

“Nothing,” Arya replied.

“That groan doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“A friend just cancelled on something,” she responded curtly.

“You seem pretty upset for a ‘friend’s’ cancellation.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Sansa gave her a knowing look, but before she could further delve into the rabbit hole that was Arya’s dating life, Jon opened the car door.

“No football practices?” Sansa asked him.

“No,” he huffed, pulling a cigarette out from his pants pocket.

“Hey,” Sansa snapped.

‘I’m eighteen,” he defended himself.

“Don’t give a shit,” she pulled it from his hands quickly, “Wait until we’re actually off school property. Don’t get yourself suspended for idiocy.”

She did have a point, Arya agreed.

Jon put the car in gear and started to drive home, but as soon as they were off school grounds, he lit a cigarette, lowered the windows, and became a ghost to the world.

“I swear,” Sansa laughed, looking towards Arya in the backseat, “I don’t know what’s worse for him: a fight with Ygritte or his inability to play football for the rest of the year.”

“Hey,” he interrupted.

“You were meant to hear that, you know,” she laughed, “It’s not like I don’t know you’re also in this car.”

“Just drop it.”

“No,” Arya interrupted, she’d deal with Gendry and his shenanigans later, but right now her brother was hurting, truly hurting. “What is going on?”

“Ygritte and I broke up.”

“And the sun rises in the morning,” Sansa smirked.

Jon and Ygritte had always had a tumultuous relationship, to say the least. From her extreme Scottish ways, to her inability to fold a napkin in her lap at dinner. Jon had really taken the cake and chosen a woman who would never fit into high society. It was one of the many factors that made Arya fear her and Gendry’s relationship. Sure, her family accepted him as her friend, and only her friend. But if he were to be married to her, he’d have to learn a hell of a lot more propriety, regardless if she thought it was necessary or not.

“It’s for real this time,” his voice was low and melancholic.

“Oh Jon,” Sansa grabbed his arm, “I’m truly sorry.”

He puffed his cigarette, “It’s okay,” he sighed, “It wasn’t like this was going to last past the end of this year. We’re all going away, me, Robb, her, Gendry.” Jon and Robb had decided to spend a year close to home and went to the local college, but after this year Robb was planning on attending Highgarden University, and Jon was planning on studying beyond the wall, whatever that meant. Ygritte was planning on going back home and Jon hoped they could make things work, but him going to the true north felt like he was following her and suffocating her and thus she ended it. Gendry, his plans were a mystery even to Arya. He toyed with Storm’s End, going back to King’s Landing, staying in Winterfell, but he was always quiet on what his decision was. 

Arya’s breath tightened at the mention of his name. She knew telling him about L.A. would throw him for a loop, but she had not entertained the idea that he would be leaving Winterfell too. She knows that’s naive to think, but somehow it’s now hitting her like a ton of bricks that she has six or so weeks left of her junior year and then everything she knows is going to change. She had to be honest, he has a life to live. If it’s away from here, then so be it. But a little part of her just wants to be considered in his decision.

“It doesn’t matter where you all go,” Sansa said diplomatically, “You’ll always end up together.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “For what, Christmas and birthdays? It’ll never be the same.”

“Tough shit,” Sansa all but smacked him upside the head, Arya knew she would’ve if Jon wasn’t driving, “Life changes, people move on, we can’t all live in a box of fairy tales.”

_ Arya loved her sister, despite their differences. Despite her best friend, Jeyne, calling her Arya horseface for years on end. But that night, last spring when Arya received an impromptu phone call from Sansa, sobbing on the other end as if her life depended on it. She snuck out, drove her parent’s car with only a learner’s permit and a prayer to the gods that no police would be out, did she find her sister on an abandoned road. _

_ She had always imagined her sister as perfect. Her hair was long and sleek and a beautiful auburn color, while hers was wild and frizzy and untamed. She had piercing blue eyes, compared to her dull grey ones. But at that moment her sister had been the most beautiful she’d ever seen her. Tattered clothes and a bruised eye to match, but never in her life had Arya seen her sister this vulnerable, this exposed. _

_ “He,” the words hardly escaped her lips. _

_ Arya knew. She knew for a long time that Joffrey was bad news. She had told Sansa again and again, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. _

_ Arya wrapped her sister up in a hug, tucking her long hair behind her ear, “I know,” she said quietly, “You and I are going to sit here until you’re okay to get up.” _

_ “Arya,” she protested. _

_ “Hush,” she stroked her hair, “We have all the time in the world.” _

“I’m not living in a fairytale,” he resisted.

“Aren’t you?” Sansa asked.

“When did you become so wise?”

“I’d say it was my advanced psych class from last year,” she smirked.

“Arya?” Jon asked, “Anything to add?’

He was pulling into their garage and she simply stated, “Every song ends. But that’s no reason not to enjoy the music.” She got out of the car and slammed the door shut and made her way to her room.

“Something’s up with her,” Jon said to Sansa.

“I know.”

“I mean, this is hard for all of us, but I never thought it’d break her.”

“Jon,” Sansa said, “I think it’s a bit beyond you and Robb leaving.”

“No,” he gave her a shocked look, but Sansa just pursed her lips.

“Yeah, figured you’d react that way.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Let it be,” Sansa reasoned, “She’ll tell us when she’s ready. Give her space. She’s done it for us.”

Jon knew Sansa was right, “Okay, but if I hear one negative word, I’m going full throttle.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less of you, big brother.”

__

Gendry hated the Brotherhood, hated them with every fiber of his being. He wishes her weren’t so desperate for college tuition, otherwise he’d have never walked into that seedy club, never met Beric or Anguy or Thoros. These men, no they weren’t evil on their own and their cause was relatively admirable, but they still hated nobility. They wanted to watch nobility burn from their mansions and Gendry would have none of that.

“Good to see you’re not late, lad,” Beric greeted him.

“You said 20:00,” he replied.

“Aye,” Beric grasped his shoulder, “I did.”

“Is the lad here?” He heard Tom Sevenstrings yell; you’d be hard pressed to find that man without a guitar in hand.

“Yes,” Beric shouted back.

All the men quickly gathered around the table, looking quite apprehensive.

“What is it?” Gendry finally asked.

Beric sighed, “You’re spending a lot of time with the Starks.” Gendry was taken aback, he had been explicit that his involvement with the brotherhood did not include his personal life, he’d run drugs for them when they needed, beat up the arrogant idiots who overcharged them, hell he even drove a truck full of guns from Manchester to London for them. Hadn’t he done enough?

“I don’t see why that’s any of your concern?” He reasoned.

Beric Dondarrion was a good man. He had been a massive supporter of Ned Stark’s election as mayor in the North. The two of them had been great friends. But for some reason Beric went down the wrong path and with it he created the Brotherhood Without Banners, an anarchist group settled on toppling the elite and overhauling their current government structure. Gendry had joined out of necessity, as a foster kid he needed a way to pay his rent if he was going to prematurely emancipate himself. He didn’t know he’d find a family in Davos and Mayra or the Starks or even Arya, but now he was too far into this mess.

“The Starks are good people,” Beric reasoned, “I don’t want them caught up in our mess.”

“Again,” Gendry spat, “How does that pertain to me?”

“You’re seeing the youngest girl, right?”

Gendry gasped, he and Arya had barely been a thing for more than three months, how could they know already?

“Drop it, boy,” Thoros said, “We don’t keep tabs on you like you’re the Queen, but we have noticed a change in you.”

“The mission is still the same,” Anguy added.

“I know that,” he argued.

“Do you?” Beric pressed, “Do you really? Because I remember a young lad with a half empty belly and a desire to fight the rich. One so pure and angry and raw, that boy was going to be my successor.”

“Life happens.”

“Aye,” Beric continued, “It does. But does life happen to all the other young boys and girls in the system? Does everything just fall into their laps because they find a good foster family and apparently, they’re the king’s heir apparent?”

Gendry was god smacked.

Before he could reply, Beric simply stated, “You will do what was asked and you will ask no questions. After you’re done, we can ask no more of you.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Tough shit,” Thoros laughed.

“I’m not that.”

“No one’s saying you have to be,” Anguy added.

“Why? Why me?”

“Because,” Beric reasoned, “You have the best excuse to get close.”

“No,” Gendry asserted himself, “I will not do it.”

“You will,” Beric roared, “Because if you don’t, your precious girlfriend’s father will be dead.”

Gendry’s eyes widened.

‘Lad,” Thoros grasped his shoulder again, “I’m sorry to put you through this, but you need to kill the Queen.”

He was true and royally fucked. 

“Lad,” Beric came up to him before he left their meeting, “I’m sorry, but it has to be you.”

Gendry ignored him, but he continued, “That girl you’re seeing, forget her.”

“I love- “

“No lad, you two come from two completely different worlds. Besides you’re about to become a terrorist, little lady of yours doesn’t deserve to be pulled into your shit now does she?”

Gendry looked the man who had been a father figure to him for years in the eyes, “No,” he agreed, “She doesn’t.”

“Good. One week, get on Robert’s good side, maybe I’ll have Anguy pull the trigger, but you better open that goddamn door, or I will kill every last Stark except the little one. No,” he warned, “That task will be left to you.”

As soon as Gendry left the brotherhood’s hideout, he whipped out his burner phone and called the one number programmed into its history, “Hello, Robert,” Gendry hesitated, “It’s Gendry. Your son. We need to talk.” 


	3. Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the next few chapters, I am without a laptop for 2 weeks to make proper edits but I wanted to give those interested something to read

Butterflies:

Arya Stark was humming to herself in the school library.

_ Do we really have to grow up? _

_ If we never do, then so what? _

_ So, what if I don’t wanna, what if I’m just gonna…” _

“Arya,” Mr. Forel, her maths teacher and fencing coach interrupted her.

“Excuse me,” she blushed, “I- I’ll be quiet.”

“No need, dear,” he smiled, “You sound lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“This may be a bit forward, but you were talking to me about the exchange program in America, and well, my friend Jaquen H’ghar, he’s a producer.”

Mr. Forel did not need to explain twice who Jaquen was, Arya had followed his career for years, especially since his discovery of The Shy Maiden, her favorite rock band as of late.

“Oh, I’m not planning on making a career out of this.”

He grasped her shoulder and looked her square in the eye, “My dear, you would be doing the world a disservice if you didn’t try. Record something and I’ll make sure he sees it. You very well could be going to L.A. before you know it.”

She was so excited she practically ran to Gendry’s house after school.

“Hello Arya,” Davos greeted.

“Hi Mr. Seaworth.”

“He’s upstairs, calculus has been a real drag for him.”

“I’ll be sure to help him out.”

She ran up the stairs two at a time, “Boo,” she yelled.

“Ahh,” he groaned, practically flying off his desk chair.

She couldn’t control her laughter, “you should see the look on your face.”

“Shut-it, Stark,” he kissed her softly, “What’s got you so excited.”

“Mr. Forel knows Jaqen H’ghar.”

“The- Jaqen- H’ghar?”

“Hey, don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m sorry love, but I don’t know who that is.”

“I talk about him all of the time.”

“You talk a lot, love. Is he another one of your lovers? Have I been replaced?”

“Shut-it, Waters.”

“Mr. Forel told me to record a song and he’d give it to Mr. H’ghar, he’s a music producer.”

“Arya!” He exclaimed, “That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “He said I could be in L.A. sooner rather than later.”

Gendry’s heart dropped, he knew they needed to talk about it, where they’d be going after the year was up. It was already late April and school ended in three weeks, then they just had the summer. He could very well stay in Winterfell and work in Mott’s shop, but he wanted more.

“Arya,” he said tenderly.

“Please,” she sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it. Can you just hold me?”

And that he did. She quickly fell asleep in his arms. “Do you know how much I love you?” He stroked her hair, gods he loved her hair and her eyes and everything about her. He didn’t want to hurt her, Gods it broke him that he’d have to.

“Mmm,” she grumbled and curled her sleeping form into his arms.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he kissed her forehead, “I’m so sorry for all the pain I’m going to cause you.”

Gendry had seen her pulling in, seen the spit fire way she got out of her car, this was it. He cracked his door ever so slightly, just enough so she could hear him but not see him. She wouldn’t be able to see the tears that streamed down his face.

“Yeah, Hot Pie,” he started, “it’s about Arya.”

She paused; did he know? How could he? She just realized this morning.

“No,” he laughed, “We’re not a thing. I mean we hooked up, like once. But I did it to be nice.”

_ “What is he saying?” _ She thought.

“Yeah,” Gendry laughed, “Me and Arya? Never in a million years. I’m going away for school in a few weeks, I don’t have time for someone,” he hesitated, “Someone who’s so clingy.”

She ran out of the house.

She drove for hours, unable to feel anything. She whipped out her phone and dialed the number Mr. Forel had given her.

“Hello?”

“Mr. H’ghar, this is Arya Stark.”

“Hello, my dear, it’s lovely to hear from you.”

“I want to come to L.A.”

“Very well, when you’re done with school, we can arrange something.”

“No,” she cut him off, “I want to come now.”

“Miss Stark, you’re only seventeen, we’d need to speak to your parents. I’m sure maybe you could come for a few weeks in the summer.”

“Please,” her voice was small, “I need to leave, and I think I want this.”

“Miss Stark, I can’t help you if you think this is something you want. You have a true talent, maybe when you’re older.”

“Have you ever been heartbroken?” She asked him.

“Miss Stark, all of us have.”

“And did you want nothing more than to run away and hide and make all of the pain go away?”

“Well, yes.”

“Everything is changing, and people are leaving, and I need to breathe. Please.”

“Miss Stark do you really want this?”

“I do. I want to not be Arya Stark and I think you know how to help me.”

“There’s a red-eye tonight to LA.”

“I’ll be on it.”

She hung up the phone and drove home.

“Arya?” Her mother yelled, “Where have you been?”

“I just needed to clear my head.”

“Just because it’s the first day of summer vacation does not mean you can leave the house without permission, young lady. You’re grounded.”

“Okay.”

“To your room now.”

Arya hugged her mother, “Alright.”

Cat stoked her daughter’s hair, “Is something wrong love?”

“No,” she replied, “Everything is fine.”

“Alright. Go on. I’ll wake you in the morning, it’s late.”

But the next morning, Arya Stark was gone.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Oh, What a World

Jaqen picked her up from LAX with a whole entourage in tow.

“Miss Stark,” he greeted, “We finally meet in person.” He went to shake her hand.

“Is this, why you?” He hesitated to find his words, noticing the cuts on her wrist.

“No,” she replied, “I hope this won’t have any effect on working together, Mr. H’ghar.”

“Jaqen, my dear,” he corrected as the driver pulled away from the terminal, “If we’re going to be working together, please call me by my name.”

“Alright, Jaqen,” the words felt foreign on her lips, “I figured with writing and recording it wouldn’t be an issue.” 

“So, Miss Stark, why did you come here? You haven’t finished high school, you’re seventeen, currently in a bit of a pickle, what can I offer you that your family cannot?”

“Anonymity.”

“You want to be a recording artist; I don’t think anonymity comes with the game.”

“Oh,” she smiled, “I think it does,” replying in a perfect southern accent.

“Where’d that come from?”

“I idolized Dolly Parton growing up, kind of just picked up her voice and made it a bit less severe. Trust me, I can be anybody you want me to be,” she pulled her braid over her shoulder.

“You have a fire in you Stark,” he laughed, “My marketing team is going to have a field day.”

“Cat,” she corrected, “Cat of the Canals, that’s who I’m going to be. Arya Stark doesn’t exist.”

“And who will she be?”

“I don’t care,” she laughed, “Anyone. Pretty, blonde, blue-eyed, freckled, anything your team can imagine. But me,” she grinned, “I’m going to become invisible in L.A.”

“Fine, my dear,” he said, “Here we are, this is your new home. You’ll be rooming with Aegon Targaryen, of the Shy Maiden. He’s my nephew so please play nice. He’s unaware of your situation, so we may have to make some arrangements.”

She took her bag into the apartment complex; it was relatively spacious with two bedrooms and one bath in the heart of the Hollywood Hills. She was however, freaking out that she’d be living with Griff, the man who she has literally idolized for years. She needed to keep her cool. A young man with shoulder length blue hair came in, he was wearing a band-tee and sweatpants.

“Hi,” he greeted, “You must be Arya. I’m Aegon.”

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Uncle,” he greeted.

“Nephew. This is Miss Stark, she’s starting her writing process on Monday, figured you’d be able to help her get acclimated to life out here in the states. I’ll leave you two to it.”

“I’d love nothing more,” he smiled at her, “My boyfriend and I were going to go out later tonight, if you’d like to join?”

“I’d love to.”

Jaqen left them a little while later and she honestly had to admit that Aegon was nothing like his on-stage persona, he was quiet and reserved, and attentive.

“I don’t need you to do that,” she replied, as he took her suitcase from her and put it in her room.

“Come on,” he laughed, “I want to.”

“You a 19-year old want to do all the heavy lifting? One of a girl you’ve just met because your uncle dropped her off at your door.”

“Well,” he grinned, “When you put it that way it does sound stupid.”

She smiled at him, “I appreciate it, I really do. But this is my mess,” she moves her fingers about herself, “Is not yours. I don’t need a therapist, but I will need a friend.”

“That I can definitely handle.”

She knocked him on the shoulder, “Good,” she laughed, “Now that that's settled where’s your bathroom, I want to cut my hair.” 

He looked at her shocked, “Huh?”

“It’s hot here,” she replied as if it was obvious, “Plus what better reason than I’ll never see anyone I know for a long time. Might as well bite the bullet. Don’t you think I’d look ravishing with hair that didn’t run the risk of going into my ass-crack every time I, you know.”

“I like the way you think, Stark,” he grinned, “Scissors are in the bathroom, I trim mine more often than our hairstylist is comfortable with.” He pointed to his jaggedly done mohawk.

She needed it gone, she couldn’t stand the look of it, the memories of him running his hands through it. Him telling her it was beautiful, that she was beautiful. He lied, he pitied her, she’d never be beautiful like Sansa. She knew she had too long of a face and offset eyes and barely a jaw to recognize. She hated being told she was beautiful, it always felt forced and erratic. No, she’d rather be called fierce and intimidating and wild and free- no need for false courtesies. Granted, it’d been only a couple of days since she left Winterfell behind. Left her family and friends, like a thief in the night, barely telling Jon where she was going.

_ “What’s going on,” he asked, interrupting her 3 a.m. packing. _

_ “Nothing.” _

_ “You’re packing.” _

_ “Aye.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Leave it.” _

_ “No.” _

_ “Arya,” he persisted, “What is going on?” _

_ “Nothing,” she replied. _

_ “Arya.” _

_ “Leave it be, Jon.” _

_ “No,” he practically yelled, “What is going on?” _

_ “I think I might be pregnant.” _

_ His eyes widened in shock, “Preg- pregnant? You’re not even dating anyone. And you think? Arya- you can’t just go running off somewhere based on a hunch.” _

_ “Jon,” she tried, she truly tried to look him in the eye. _

_ “Arya, did someone hurt you?” _

_ “Not physically, but the father, uh he and I had a falling out. Please don’t tell anyone.” Her eyes glazed with tears, “I don’t want to go,” she admitted, “But it’s safer this way.” _

_ Jon came to the realization that his little sister was leaving, “And you won’t be safer with us?” _

_ “No,” Arya breathed out, “I won’t.” _

_ He hugged her fiercely before folding her pile of t-shirts into her suitcase, “Don’t be a stranger,” he pleaded. _

_ “I won’t.” _

_ “Come on,” he said, “I’ll drive you to wherever you need to be.”  _

_ The ride was silent, Arya was always the one who fussed with the radio, never being able to ride along without even a podcast going. But now the car was so eerily silent that Jon could hear her ragged breathing and the sound of her fingernails tapping, impatiently, on the windowsill.  _

_ “Where are you going?” He asked, finally cutting the silence as he pulled into departures at the airport. _

_ “I can’t tell you.” She couldn’t look at him.  _

_ “I love you; you know that right. We all do.” _

_ “I know. I just have to go.” _

_ “Call me when you land?” _

_ She gave him a shy smile. _

_ “Sure, big brother.” _

_ He reluctantly let her go, knowing full well a call from her would not come anytime soon. _

_ “Be safe,” he whispered to himself as he watched her drag her small suitcase through the halls of the airport, finally being taken out of his trance by the sound of a honking horn behind him. _

It felt unsure to have long, thick, beautiful hair. She wasn’t worthy of it. It needed to go, she talked herself down from the fear and the anxiety and the wonder if she’d be ugly. No. She needs to be her own person. She barely let Jaquen leave the apartment before she did it. She told him she was going to do it, maybe not in those exact words but she alluded to it, although he had rolled his eyes in disbelief. They could market her with a wig and prosthetics for all she cared. He had bit his tongue and been reluctant but told her to do what she needed to do to infuse her muse. He wanted the artist cat of the canals, to show how Arya Stark displayed herself he had little gun in that fight. He cared solely that she’d be able to record an album, able to work on songwriting, what did he care that she was pregnant and that she’d cut her hair? It wasn’t his to worry about.

She grabbed a lock of her waist length hair and she cut, just above her collarbone. She continued until it was all gone. All of her long, precious hair was on the floor and Arya Stark felt nothing more than liberated. She started to cry, alerting her roommate.

“Babe,” he smiled. “I got this,” He took the scissors from her hand and continued.

“Where were you thinking?” he asked, and she gently lifted her hand to right below her ear.

“There,” she whispered, “I want my earrings to show underneath.”

“A fierce look, for a fierce she-wolf. You don’t need to hide behind that carpet of hair.

“You won’t make me look ugly, will you?” he laughed as he cut a few more inches. 

“That’d be impossible.”

Her roommate cut the rest for her, ending it at a barely an ear length bob, a haircut that apparently was all the rage in LA right now. She felt naked and exposed but honestly, the most like herself that she’s ever felt in a long time.

“You look hot, babe,” Aegon smiled.

“Shut-it,” she responded.

“No. Seriously, look at yourself.”

It was like a weight had been lifted. She never thought she was pretty in comparison to Sansa, but now, standing her with all the weight off of her shoulders, her neck stood out, and her eyes popped more, and her jaw looked slimmer- she’d dare say she looked beautiful.

“The little one’s gonna have a hot mama,” Aegon jokes.

“Aye,” she smiled, stroking her belly, “They will.”

“How much do you think Jaqen’s gonna freak?”

She tucked her now short hair behind her ear, “I didn’t cut bangs, so, maybe a 7 out of 10.”

“About that,” Aegon grinned, “We’re not done yet.”

He took a triangular section from the front of her hair and before she even had time to protest, he cut, “You look like Amelie,” he smiled, proud of his craftsmanship.

She eyed herself in the mirror, belly more prominent than ever, fear however, had dissipated from her eyes. Here she was seventeen in a whole new country, without her family or her boyfriend or anything, but the random gay man she was told to room with who was also in her favorite band. But all he was right now, was a true and honest friend.

“Thank you,” she hugged him tightly.

He tucked her hair behind her ear, “Please make annoying, pompadour ponytails and rub my face with them,” he laughed.

“I will.”

“You know,” he paused, “I might not be able to get it up for you.

“Oh, how romantic.” She rolled her eyes.

“Arya, shut it, I’m trying to have a moment.”

“Continue then, Egg.”

“You do look really beautiful. This truly suits you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not saying this a gay or a man or anyone else, but do not ever grow your hair out again, you my friend do not need hair that ever reaches past your neck.”

“You’re lucky Jaquen has a wig collection.”

“Come on,” he smiled, “Let’s get ready for tonight, you’re going to love Duck when you meet him.”

And right he was, as Arya Stark kept to that advice years after her friend had initially told, her hair stayed at jaw length at most, all the years she lived in L.A.

She dressed for the night, tight black dress and heels, her hair was straight, and she put minimal makeup on. Aegon had suggested they go to this new club in L.A. where his boyfriend, Duck was going to D.J. She’d never been to a club before, but what could be the harm?

“You look beautiful, love,” he smiled at her as she came out of her room.

“Thank you,” she blushed.

“Hair really suits you, can’t believe you kept that mop for, well, forever.”

She smacked him across the shoulder, “Piss off.”

“No, no,” he smirked, “American accents only, it’s fuck off.”

“Fuck off,” she tried.

He grinned, “Try again.”

“Fuck off.”

“Better,” he smirked, “You’re going to need a lot of practice to smack the posh out of you.”

“You’re one to talk, nephew to the biggest producer in L.A.”

“That may be,” he grinned, “But at least I can pull an American accent without looking like I’m straining to shit.”

“I hate you.”

“You haven’t known me long enough to form a proper opinion, now let’s go, the club won’t be waiting forever.”

They pulled up to the club.

“Wow,” Duck said, “Your roommate is gorgeous.”

“Keep it in your pants,” he kissed his boyfriend.

“I think Edric would be into her,” he suggested.

“No,” Aegon firmly stated, “She’s just been through some things, I don’t think it’d be right.”

“Look at her,” Duck smiled, “Her hair, her vibe, everything.”

“No,” Aegon protected her, “She’s worth a lot more than that.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mother

Their first recording session started the Monday after she’d moved to L.A. Jaqen had been aghast when he saw her hair, but just groaned and bared it.

“Alright, Arya,” Ben said, the sound engineer on her album, Jaqen said you wrote something on the plane?”

“Yeah,” she shyly responded, “I did.”

“Go for it, love.”

It's not you, it's the glow of the party

The way that you've got me lit up inside

It's the song that they're playin', the words that you're sayin'

It's never felt so right

And I'm the kind of person who starts getting kinda nervous

When I'm having the time of my life

Is there a word for the way that I'm feeling tonight?

Happy and sad at the same time

You got me smiling with tears in my eyes

I never felt so high

No, I've never been this far off of the ground

And they say everything that goes up must come down

But I don't wanna come down

So, is there a way to stop all this thinkin', just keep on drinkin'?

'Cause I don't wanna wake up

When they're turnin' the lights on and it turns out the joke's on me

'Cause it feels so right

And I'm the kind of person who starts getting kinda nervous

When I'm having the time of my life

Is there a word for the way that I'm feeling tonight?

Happy and sad at the same time

You got me smilin' with tears in my eyes

I never fell so high

No, I've never been this far off of the ground

And they say everything that goes up must come down

And I don't wanna come down

I don't mind at all, no, I'm used to fallin'

I'm comfortable when the sky is gray

But when everything is perfect, I start hidin'

'Cause I know that rain is comin' my way, my way

'Cause I'm happy and sad at the same time

You got me smilin' with tears in my eyes

I never felt so high

No, I've never been this far off of the ground

And they say everything that goes up, goes up must come down

And I don't wanna come down

No, I don't wanna come down

“Holy,” Jaqen said.

“Jaq,” Ben smiled, “You’ve hit absolute gold.”

“I know. Don’t I know.”

“Was that good?” Arya asked.

“Absolutely perfect, love,” Ben smiled at her.

It took her three months to record the entire album, Jaqen and Ben couldn’t have been more impressed.

“So,” Jaqen began their meeting, “You’re fast, too fast almost. We think if we release in six weeks, we can still get you in the running for awards season and then set up a tour.”

“Awards season? Tour?” she asked.

“Of course,” he smiled at her, “You don’t understand, Miss Stark, you have a hit on your hands. Best new artist is yours if we play our cards right. Plus, album of the year, the works.”

“But anonymity.”

“That,” Ben grabbed her wrist and looked her deep in the eyes, “Is where the fun begins. Who do you truly want to be?”

“Cat of the Canals.”

“And who is she?”

“Southern,” she laughs at her terrible attempt at an accent.

“Can sing like an angel, but sounds terrible as a trucker! Step one: accent coach.,” Jaqen laughed.

They had settled it, they were going to put her in a long-haired, black wig, that was sleek and straight. Her nose would get pierced and she’d get a couple of tattoos, small ones that would hardly be noticeable. Plus, she had recently turned eighteen, so she was planning on getting one anyways. Her persona would be from Tennessee, so her accent could be subtle. It took more time to work with a dialect coach to get the accent down perfectly than it took her to record the album. Three months had passed since she finished recording her album and she’d been in L.A. about six months. She wondered about her family, a lot. About Gendry too. She hoped Jon told them she was safe, she would go back home to England someday, but for now, she couldn’t stand the sight of that place. Everywhere she looked she had memories of him, and she felt like a total fool.

“Beer?” Aegon jokingly asked as he sat down on their couch, opened his beer, and turned their Roku on.

“Uh, baby on board,” she pointed to her stomach, now that she was about to pop, “Is Duck coming over tonight, do I need to put in my ear plugs?”

“No,” he laughed, “He’s with his mom tonight, thought it’d be a fun treat to make her dinner.”

“That’s really sweet. I bet Marie will be surprised, usually Duck is such an ass.”

He lightly smacked her arm, “Hey, my boyfriend is not an ass.’

“Excuse me,” she huffed, “I’ll correct myself. He’s not one to go out of his way for others.”

Aegon looked at her and sighed, “He’s a lot more than you know.”

She peered at her roommate, “Meaning?”

“Duck’s had a hard life. His father left his mother when he came out, he doesn’t really have a social circle, it’s really him and me against the world.”

“Aegon,” she tried, “I didn’t realize.”

“I know,” he cut her off, as kindly as he could, “I know he’s rough around the edges, trust me. But he’s a good man. Even,” he ran his hands through his hair, “Even a great man. He’s never given me any shit about being your roommate and your current situation. He wants to, uh,” he paused.

“He wants to do what?”

“He’d like to be involved. You know, with, with the baby.”

Her face paled.

“I mean,” he tried to retract, “Not if you’re not willing.”

“Aegon,” she smiled, “Duck isn’t my favorite person in the world, but you know he’s competing with like forty-seven family members, but I still like him and he’s your partner and gosh,” she laughed, “I didn’t think we needed to talk about him being in my baby’s life. I just assumed you’d be their godparents.”

“Really?” He smiled like an idiot.

“Well, duh,” she laughed, “You both have been there for me, even when it got ugly.”

“Oh yeah, your olive phase was not pretty.”

“We don’t need to rehash old issues, Egg.”

“Touché,” he grinned.

“You’re a good person, Aegon,” she said seriously, “And I know you’re not going to be with someone who’s not. Duck’s, well he’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before, but he cares and that’s all that matters.”

He just smiled at her, “So,” he ruffled her fluffy ponytail, “Are you ready to see the premier?”

He pulled up his laptop and pulled up her new YouTube Vevo page and clicked on her video,  _ Golden Hour _ - _ By Cat of the Canals _ .

She cried at the end, he just hugged her, “Congratulations, Arya, you made it.” And then she felt a faint wetness, and her eyes widened.

They had set the album release back due to her pregnancy, that way she could hide the fact that ‘Cat of the Canals’ was going to be a mother. She wanted her child to be free from any media scrutiny, also the fact that if you looked close enough you could definitely tell it was her. Arya Stark chose to be a musician and to have her image, although altered, put out into the world. The child in her womb didn’t. They had no say on how their life was to be run or portrayed and she wanted to give them as clean of a slate as she could. Even her, growing up as a Stark, a prominent political family in England, there were unbelievable pressures on her. She wanted to give her child a true tabula rosa, pure anonymity. She thought she’d meet them in a few weeks’ time, but of course, she’d go into labor right as the other biggest moment of her life was happening.

“Aegon,” she looked at him fearfully, “I think, my water just broke.”

Eighteen hours later and Arya was holding her daughter in her arms.

“She’s beautiful,” Jon smiled at her. Arya was delirious during her labor and didn’t realize when her older brother had come in, Aegon had called him, something Arya’s eternally grateful for.

“You’re here?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“How are mom and dad and everyone?”

“They’re sad you didn’t tell them you were going to L.A., but Mr. Forel did speak with them and tried to explain. They still haven’t heard you sing,” he giggled, “Even I haven’t. Robb still believes you’re pulling everyone’s legs and peddling drugs out here.”

She laughed at the idiocy of her eldest brother, but Jon continued, “They’re happy for you Arya, but you’re going to have to speak to them eventually.”

She looked down at her daughter, thinking if she left her what would she do, “I know. I will. I don’t know if I’m ready to tell them about her, but I should give them a call.”

“What’s her name?” He asked.

“Cassandra Anne,” she paused.

« Stark? » He asked.

She sighed, “No, uh,” she looked up at her brother with big doe eyes, “Don’t get mad.”

“Arya,” his voice growled, “What’s her last name?” He looked at her intently and she did everything she could not to meet his gaze. Because she knew in an instant everything she had been hiding would be out in the open. She trusted Jon, he was her favorite brother after all, she knew he wouldn’t tell the others, but still. This was big. This was monumental. She’d destroy years’ worth of friendships and trust in a measly two seconds after uttering her daughter’s last name. He didn’t deserve for him to have his last name, he didn’t deserve jack, but something in her, something unexplainable, couldn’t dishonor him like that. So, she lightly stroked her daughter’s cheek and looked up at her impatient brother and said.

“Baratheon.” It had been all over British television and tabloids, there was a band of criminals who were arrested, something like a brotherhood. They were anarchists who wanted to disrupt the status quo. There was an anonymous witness who worked with the king personally on the case. However, when all was revealed, Gendry, her Gendry, was revealed to the public as the King’s son. Gendry Baratheon. He was an ass, regardless if he was a royal ass or not. 

His eyes widened in shock, but then reality hit him, “You and, you and Gendry? Oh, my gods. Arya? Did he force you? Did he hurt you? Did he refuse to help you? And to think I’ve been friends with him for months since you left. How, how could you not tell me?” Her brother rambled.

“He doesn’t know,” a single tear fell, “When I found out I was going to tell him. But then I overheard him on the phone telling someone that he was with me because he pitied me. We weren’t just having sex Jon; we were in love with each other or so I thought… I couldn’t stand another day being there, with his perfect blue eyes looking at me and pitying me. And I know if he knew I was pregnant he’d want to be involved, but I couldn’t, when all I wanted to do was strangle him. So no, he doesn’t get to know, maybe not forever, but for right now it’s me and her.”

“Then why give her his last name?”

“He’s still her father and as much of an ass he was to me, I want to give her a chance to be a good Baratheon, we have so few of them,” she reasoned, but truly inside, everything in her wished he could be here, be with her and their daughter. She hated herself for letting her own selfishness rule her, to let her own pain prevent her daughter from knowing her father. She hoped Cassandra would be able to forgive her someday, but right now it felt like if she saw him that her heart would be split in two. She’s always been a bit different; she wasn’t the funny one like Rickon or smart like Bran or a ruler like Robb or feminine like Sansa. She loved her family, truly she did, but there was something about the way Gendry had seen her. Or the way she thought he had seen her. And she guessed that was what hurt the most, he made her identity feel seen, and he stepped on it like it was nothing. So yes, she wasn’t ready to have him in her life, and it pained her beyond no measure that she let her own issues cloud her daughter’s life. She never truly regretted anything in her life, but this, this tore her apart. 

“I love you Arya,” he leaned in to kiss her cheek, “Still mad as hell that one of my best friends knocked you up and you didn’t tell me.”

“There’s a lot I don’t tell you,” she laughed.

“Yeah a heads up on the hair would’ve been nice,” he smiled at her, tugging at its significantly shorter stands. Last time he saw her it was half-way down her back, now it was only half-way down her neck.

“Shut-up, it looks good.”

“That it does little sister, that it does.”

Jon pulled up a chair next to her bedside, “So, little sister, tell me all about what you’re doing in L.A. The little tidbits mom and dad have gotten from your former music teacher haven’t done enough justice.”

Arya signals for Jon to grab her phone from her purse and tells him to look up a Cat of the Canals music video and watches as her brother sits there in shock, while she gets lost in her daughter’s eyes. Nothing in the world seemed impossible as she stared at the life she had created. She ignored her brother for the few minutes he was enveloped with her music video, ignoring his gasps of concern and glee at the same time. The slight humming of her song did nothing to deter her trance of the beautiful little girl in her arms. Right then and there she knew she’d take a bullet for her in an instant, she’d die for this little bundle of perfect flesh. None of the rest of it meant anything. The fame, well that truly never enticed her, the music, the singing; the things she loved- she’d give them all up and be an insurance agent or a nurse or a teacher or anything else, if it meant keeping this little one safe.

Once it’s done, the nurse helps her put Cassie in the bassinet and she spends hours telling her brother all about her L.A. adventures. Answering question after question. Minute detail after minute detail. Until she finally sang for him.

_ I used to get sad and lonely when the sun went down. _

_ But it’s different now. _

_ ‘Cause I love the light that I’ve found in you. _

And her brother melted.

“Arya,” tears formed in his eyes, “Your voice, it’s.” He couldn’t find the words, then he looked at her and truly saw her. Gone was the secondary school student who barely knew the definition of confidence and before him laid a true woman, “It’s remarkable.”

She couldn’t help the tears that fell, all she ever wanted was for someone to be proud of her, “Thank you,” she muttered quietly.

He didn’t say anything, he just squeezed her hand and ran his hands through her hair, letting her know he’d be there. For everything. Good, bad, and ugly. He was all in.

Little did she know on the other side of the world, a certain someone was listening to Spotify ‘Discover Weekly’ and he heard a voice that sent shivers through his spine. It was her voice, but it wasn’t her face. He felt like he was going insane. What did I do? I pushed her away for a reason, she’s going to understand, I know she will. She’s safe, at home with her family. She’s not this Cat of the Canals person. Maybe I should call Jon- but then again, I don’t want to explain dating and breaking up with Arya. It’ll be over in a few months.

“Gendry,” Robert called him, and he turned off his phone.

Love is a Wild Thing

Gendry’s phone rang, without looking he answered it, “Hello?” the voice on the other line said.

“Jon?” Jon Snow hadn’t called him in years, this was completely out of the blue.

“Something’s happened to Arya and Robert told us you were in L.A. and she’s there and I need you to,” he rambled out.

“Jon, Jon, slow down. What’s happened to Arya?” He was immediately concerned, although she had cut off contact between the two of them for years, he never in a million years wanted anything bad to happen to her.

“She was stabbed.”

Gendry’s face paled, “s-stabbed?”

“She’s in the hospital right now, her former roommate called me, but I can’t get there until the morning and he has to do something for the time being and can’t be there for another hour or so and I don’t want her to be alone. Plus, my family is flying out on Robert’s plane as soon as they can. But Gendry, you’re there, please can you go.”

Jon knew nothing of their breakup nor why Arya and he stopped being friends, but in this moment, he didn’t care, he just wanted her to be okay, “Yeah, I’ll go. What hospital?”

Jon texted him all the information he had, including her roommate’s name and number.

He got to the hospital but to his dismay visiting hours were over, so he waited in the waiting room. The news was on, apparently a singer named Cat of the Canals was stabbed four times in the abdomen by a crazed fan, she was found unresponsive and alone backstage. She was in critical condition. The camera had panned out to a view of a vigil and the entire festival crowd was mourning.

“She’s such a good person, why would anyone do this?” one fan said.

Another cried, “She’s only 21 and she’s fighting for her life- this isn’t right.”

Gendry found it odd though that people kept coming in, this late, it was like a celebrity’s team was coming. And then police officers. He dozed off to sleep.

The next morning, he asked the nurse if he’d be able to see Arya Stark, the visiting hours hadn’t begun just yet, but she let it slide since he had been there all night.

“Room 2106,” she smiled.

He got to the room and there were police officers outside of it.

“Hello, uh,” he hesitated, running his hands through his hair, “I’m a family friend of Arya’s.”

“I.D.,” a man who looked like an armed bodyguard requested. He obliged, while the one gentleman was reviewing it, the other went into the room, with him a blonde gentleman came out.

“Aegon Targaryen,” he extended his hand, “And you’re Gendry Waters?”

Why did it seem like this man knew me, “Yes,” he said curtly, “I would like to see Arya, her brother Jon is worried sick?”

“You can come in, but she’s still unconscious from her surgery. The doctor said she should wake up in a few hours.”

He followed the blonde man and he felt like his heart fell out of his chest when he saw her. Never in his life had he seen her so weak. There were tubes everywhere and her face looked like it was scrunched in pain. She looked different too, gone were the frizzy locks of hair that ran down her back. It was short and, in a half, ponytail that 

was maybe a few inches long, reaching no longer than a few inches past her ears. He tried to swallow his reaction to her shorn locks, they were one of his favorite features about her, so he shouldn’t be surprised that she cut them. Her nose was pierced, also, and he could see she had a few tattoos. He pulled up a chair next to her and just held her hand.

An hour or so later she started to stir, and when she noticed him, she yanked her hand away.

“What- what are you doing here?”

“Jon called- he’s on his way and so is your family. I was in L.A. he wanted someone to be with you. I’m sorry Arya, I really am.”

“What happened?”

“Arya,” his voice got shallow, “Um, maybe we should wait for the doctor.”

“Gendry, tell me what happened. Why am I in the hospital?”

“Arya, you don’t remember anything?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked.” There’s her same fire.

“You were stabbed, you just woke up from surgery.”

She didn’t say anything, she just looked at him and sighed.

“Is it alright if I stay? Jon won’t be here for 

another few hours, there were delays.”

Despite everything telling her to say no, she couldn’t help but think maybe this was fate, so she said, “It’s fine.”

They sat in silence for a while when someone burst in the room, “Look who it is,” he gleefully smiled. Arya immediately perked up and extended her arms out, trying to hide the wince on her face from the pain she felt. And all Gendry could do was watch as a little girl, with a fleece nightgown and a stuffed bull in her hands, being placed into Arya’s arms.

“She had a great sleepover with Uncle Duck last night.”

“Is that so,” she cooed at the girl.

“Yeah, mommy, it was great. I got ice cream and everything.”

“You did? Well Cassie, that sounds like you had the best time ever.”

The little girl grinned, her bright blue eyes becoming more apparent to Gendry, then said, “Mommy, why are you in the hospital?” She barely could say, hospital, making Gendry chuckle to himself.

“Mommy just got a boo-boo and needed the doctor to make it better.” The little girl leaned in to kiss Arya on the cheek and hugged her gently, “There, I made it better.” Arya simply wrapped her arms around her and then began to cry quietly. Not even realizing Duck, Aegon, and Gendry were still in the room. She held her daughter close and stroked her black hair, this is what everything was for. Holding this little girl in her arms, telling her bedtime stories, rocking her to sleep after a hard day. Nothing else meant anything if she couldn’t look into those baby blue eyes every night, kiss the tip of her nose, and feel the smoothness of her little cheek as she tucked her into bed. Cassandra saved her. She didn’t care about her career or her fame or her fans, she only cared about the little girl in her arms and to think last night she could have left her.

Gendry watched the exchange and the gears were turning in his head, the black hair, the ocean blue eyes, the stuffed bull.

“Oh my God,” he muttered.

Arya heard him, “Not now, please. I will tell you, but please.”

“Okay,” he squeezed her hand, knowing that she was always one to keep her promises. Everything in him made him want to get up and leave, not wanting to deal with the Starks when they arrived and obviously figured out the same conclusion that he had, but he couldn’t. She was the love of his life and his daughter rested in her arms, he’s bound and determined to do anything to get them back in his life.

A little while later one of the guards came into the room, “Arya,” he asked clearly, they knew each other. Gendry mused to himself, “Jon is here.”

“Let him in, Craig,” she instructed.

“Will do.”

Jon Snow entered the room, he looked pretty much the same as what Gendry remembered. His hair a little longer and beard a little scruffier, but the same, nonetheless.

“Uncle Jon,” Cassie smiled as she noticed her uncle.

“Little one,” he grinned as he gently removed her from Arya’s arms and kissed the top of her head, “Mr. Waters should stay with mommy so he can make her feel better.” She motioned to the stuffed bull she left in Arya’s arms.

“Thank you, baby,” Arya grinned.

“Hi,” Jon said to her.

“Hey,” she smiled.

“Gendry,” Jon acknowledged.

“Hi Jon,” he said awkwardly. He didn’t really know what to do. He didn’t fit into this world, Arya and her brother and her child, his child, but also her roommate and this Duck fellow and the bodyguards and everything was becoming a bit overwhelming.

“Mom and Dad are on their way; I think Robb and Sansa are too. Bran and Rickon can’t leave school, with finals happening this week, but they send their love and well wishes and will call you soon.”

“How much trouble do you think I’m going to be in?” She asked.

Gendry chuckled to himself, here she was a mother and clearly surviving and doing pretty well on her own and she was afraid of her parents.

“Arya,” Jon warned.

“I know,” she huffed, “I just thought I’d have more time.”

Aegon interrupted, “I can bring her to our house for the afternoon if you’d like.”

Gendry’s gears continued to turn.

“No,” she relented, “It’s best that she uh, she stays here.”

“Wait a minute,” Gendry interjected, “Do your parents, do they not know?”

“Gendry, we’re not doing this now.”

Before he could interject a knock came at the door and two police officers entered.

“Ms. Stark, if you’re up to it, we’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Aegon said, motioning for Duck to come with him.

“Egg,” his husband peered at him, “I- I have to stay.”

Arya gave Jon a pleading look, “Um, could you take her?”

“Yeah,” he gripped her hand assuringly, “Cass, let’s go get some ice cream with Uncle Egg.”

“Is mommy’s other friend going to come?”

“I don’t know,” Jon looked at Gendry, “IS he?”

“I think I’m gonna stay, if that’s okay?”

She nodded at him.

After Jon, Aegon, and Cassie left the officers started asking their questions.

“Can you describe what happened to you?”

Arya inhaled deeply then began, “I was backstage, preparing for the festival. I think I was supposed to go on in twenty or so minutes. I like to be alone for a little, after you’re with a team of twenty people for what seems like hours on end, it’s nice for a breather. I love my team, trust me, they’re all fantastic, but I need my Zen time before each show.”

Gendry was confused, what did she mean by show?

“Continue, Miss Stark,” the officer encouraged.

“I don’t remember much, all I remember is I had my headphones in, listening to something, and I felt someone come up behind me, it happened so fast. I don’t really remember anything. All I know is I woke up in the hospital and was told I had been stabbed.”

Before the officer could ask any more questions, Duck spoke up, “I found her. She was late for her call time, which never happens, and I went looking for her and saw her unconscious with blood all over her abdomen. I was able to get help and we had her airlifted from the festival to the hospital.”

Arya started to cry, she hadn’t really thought of it as much earlier when Gendry told her someone tried to kill her, but knowing she was so helpless.

“Miss Stark, I think that’s enough for now. We’ll let you get some rest.”

Gendry looked at her with disbelief and said, “You’re ‘Cat of the Canals?’”

“Yeah,” she said, “I am.”

“I can’t believe it. You've won six Grammys and sold like 25 million records. Arya.”

“Uh,” she ruffled her hair, “Yeah, I guess.”

He couldn’t form words; how much has happened in just three and a half years?

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? When everything’s died down. I’ll tell you about Cassie and my music and my life here. But right now, I can’t do that. I need to focus on the fact that someone tried to kill me, it’s a bit of a preoccupation of my brain.”

He rolled his eyes at her, there was a bit of the old Arya, he tucked a short piece of hair behind her ear and said, “I don’t deserve you telling me about your life.”

“I know you don’t,” she huffed back, “But she does, you’re her father and I’m sorry I kept her from you.”

“I deserved it,” he sighed, “I knew, you know?”

“That I was pregnant?”

“No,” he looked at her guiltily, “No, I knew that you were outside my room that day. I wanted you to hear that.”

“What are you talking about? How could you? How could you be so cruel?”

“Arya,” he said firmly, “When you tell me about your life in L.A., I’ll tell you about mine in Winterfell. Please trust me when I tell you, I loved you. I truly did, I think I still do. I know what I said hurt you, but I said it to protect you.”

“Gendry, why?” But before he could answer, Jon, Cassie, and Aegon came back in.

“Mommy,” Cassie interrupted, not really noticing her mother was upset, “Who is he?” She pointed to Gendry.

“That’s Mr. Baratheon,” she explained, she always tried to have her daughter say Mr. and Mrs. To new adults.

“Baratheon? That’s my name.” She nudged for Jon to let her down and went over to Gendry and tried to climb into his lap, she was such a little thing, Gendry had to pick her up and put her there. 

Gendry gasped, “You gave her my name?”

Everyone in the room felt awkward to be witnessing this, “Well, you are her father after all.”

Unfortunately for him, the world wasn’t able to open a hole and swallow him whole, because right as she said that the entire Stark family walked into the room. Some guards she had.

“What did you just say?” Catelyn asked.

“I’m going to kill him,” Robb screamed.

Cassie just nestled her head into Gendry’s chest, clearly scared by all the commotion.

Ned just smiled and walked over to his daughter, “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Sansa laughed, “Yeah, like what the hell happened to your hair Arya?”

Arya groaned and Jon chuckled, “Why does everyone ask me that. No, Arya how’d you get a music career, no Arya how’s L.A., no Arya how’s your child?”

“To be fair,” Aegon interjected, “No one knew about most of that stuff.”

Arya simply groaned again. Here comes the firing squad.

Space Cowboy

Arya was dumbfounded, here she was, stabbed, in a hospital room, with her staff, her parents, her ex, her daughter, her best friend, and a few members of the hospital staff that really did not need to check her vitals every five minutes.

“So,” Sansa tried to cut the tension, “Your hair?” 

“It’s hot in L.A.,” she reasoned, “And should I mention yours, someone did not have blonde hair the last time I saw them.” 

“Touché.” 

Arya sighed, “Everyone gets one question, and nothing inappropriate there are children present.” 

Catelyn racked her hands through her hair, “The level of irresponsibility, young lady. Imagine my fright when I get a call from your older brother telling me that you’d been stabbed. And more than that, that you were stabbed at a music festival. Here I thought, oh good, Arya is making friends and enjoying L.A., because you tell me so little about it on our monthly phone calls. Then he tells me you were performing, Arya,” she gripped her daughter’s hand like a vice, “twelve hours on a private plane, with wifi, I did a lot of googling young lady.” 

“None of those were questions,” Arya mused. 

“Cat,” Ned calmly led his wife away from their daughter. 

“Why,” Cat had tears in her eyes, “Did you not tell us about her?” Cassie had her face nestled in Gendry’s chest and he was stroking her back, she clearly had been crying. 

“He can answer that question.” 

“Umm,” he looked around stunned, “Arya and I,” he ran a hand through his hair, “We dated end of my senior year and then we broke up. I didn’t know about the pregnancy.” 

“So,” Sansa interjected, “You decided not to tell him, fine, but why not us?” 

“Why would I tell you?” 

“Arya,” Jon scolded.

“No,” she defended herself, “You all had your own lives, I didn’t fit in anywhere. Here, I’m somebody and I have a talent and people want to hear me sing. Tell me, did your lives change significantly when I left?”

They all looked down in shame, “Exactly,” she huffed.

“And so what that they didn’t?” Sansa spoke up, “Did you really expect us to sit around and wallow that Arya wasn’t home? We knew you were going to L.A., you just went earlier than we anticipated. We prepared for it. Arya Stark, little sister, you were never meant for the rolling hills and cold winds of Winterfell.”

Arya had so much left to say, but the words she longed to scream from the rooftops, were not appropriate for her daughter. 

“Aegon,” she asked, “I’m feeling awfully tired, would you mind escorting my family out and letting the nurses know.” 

Her family wore shocked expressions. 

Gendry got up to leave as well, but her hand gripped his, “You,” she paused, “Stay please.” 

And so he did, regardless of every bone in his body telling him that now was not the role, that she needed her strength, he needed his. But one look at those doe, grey eyes and he was captivated like he was four years ago. To think he was only 23 and she just barely 21, and their lives were already this complicated.

“Explain,” she demanded. 

“What, Arya?”

“Start with Robert,” she huffed, “please.”

He hummed, “okay. Well, I got involved with the brotherhood ears on,”

  
  
  



End file.
